


Expressive Affairs

by ofthecloudsjpeg



Category: Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: AU where they're Happy for once, Fluff, dick doing domestic things, kinda ooc but it be like that sometimes, kory rachel and gar are only mentioned sadly, rachel is apparently an artist?? ig, very descriptive, where are all the fics for this fandom holy shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:50:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofthecloudsjpeg/pseuds/ofthecloudsjpeg
Summary: Detective Smith is extremely observant and can read people like a book, a fact that she's deeply proud of...Until Dick Grayson.





	Expressive Affairs

Detective Smith isn’t obsessed with people, she just watches people with great curiosity and enthusiasm, that’s all. She’s been working as a police officer for six years, okay? She’s bound to get a little curious every so often. She doesn’t really know when her love of “people-watching” (that’s what she decided to call it in her teens) really started. It simply progressed until she realized, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be staring at that woman for too long because she sees me aaaaand yeah, it’s weird now.”

She’s learned to control how long she stares; observing with only mere glances is her specialty. She could tell a lot about a person by the way they walk, dress, talk, and treat people. But there always has to be an anomaly, the outlier in which she cannot figure out for the life of her, and to be completely honest, it absolutely kills her.

Dick Grayson, one of the newest detectives at the Detroit precinct, is the most shielded, defensive, and frustrating man she’s ever met. Shielded, because he never lets his guard down, not even for a second. Defensive, because everytime anyone tries to make conversation about his something life, he adverts it to another topic. And frustrating, because she absolutely cannot understand why. 

Yes, he’s polite and truly kind, but so entirely confusing.

She knew that his parents were killed in an unfortunate accident-turned-murder incident, but there was something else, there had to be. There was something in his walk that she knows comes from military education, but there’s no evidence to prove that he was involved in the military in any form. The way that he saunters, hesitates through doorways, but doesn’t hesitate when there’s something that needs to be done. He holds his head up high, waiting, provoking anyone to try something. No one ever has before, and most likely, they never will.

And… there was something in his gaze she’s only seen veterans present, that look in their eye that indicates they’ve seen things no one should ever have to see. That’s constant, but Grayson is good at hiding his emotions otherwise. Whatever he’s feeling at any moment in time is delicately thrown in the trash, never to be picked up again. But sometimes, it comes back. It always does. When he zones out in his memories or fears, the haunted, distraught, and maybe even guilty look, is enough to make her shift in her chair. The chilling thought runs through her body: What did he have to go through to ever gain that distress?

Maybe it was his hands, almost always clenched in tight fists while watching the news or going over new, ruthless cases. The way his jaw clenches in fury at a child who’s gone through traumatic experiences. The way that he never stops and complains about his workload or the enormous stack of paperwork, just gets to it, never looking back once. (If he looks back far enough, what will he rediscover? What trauma does he want so badly to be swept under the rug? Will it go away if he ignores it? Or will it grow worse and eventually drown him?)

Whatever the reason was, she couldn’t stop. Ever since he made his way over to Detroit from Gotham (that explains a lot), and introduced himself to everyone, including Detective Smith herself, she could not stop trying to uncover who he really was. Unfortunately, all she could theorize was that he was abused in Bruce Wayne’s household, but could not back up these claims. So far, all she’s gotten is that he loved and adored Bruce Wayne, and vice-versa.

It was annoying that she couldn’t reveal anything concrete.

When she thought all was lost, that this is the first time she’s ever not gotten through to someone, something extraordinary happens.

It’s a regular Tuesday for the precinct, around 12:30 in the afternoon, and she’s finishing up reports while he’s looking some over from his “time off”. (She’s still looking into that… Grayson has never taken time off, and suddenly, he drops all contact for three weeks with little to no explanation? Coming in with giant dark circles under his eyes, when he should’ve been on “vacation”, relaxing? No. Something was definitely wrong about that...) They’re both doing their thing, minding their own businesses, when…

The phone rings.

Detective Smith sees Grayson pick it up from the corner of her eye and thinks it’s nothing but just a client or intel, and so does he going by the way he spoke.

“Grayson,” the bored and slightly detached look in his face said it all: he’d rather go head to head with Batman himself than talk to anyone important at the moment. 

Whatever the person was saying got Grayson up in a heartbeat, shoving reports into his bag, and struggling to get his coat on, all at the same time, “What? What happened…?” He stopped for a few seconds, then continued, his voice quiet and calm, and his movements slower, “What? Gar, listen to me. Tell me what’s going on.” His movements stopped completely as he listened to the recipient on the other line explain the situation, and Grayson’s resolve changes from alert and ready-for-battle, to exasperated and quite frankly, a little tired.

His shoulders sagged, “Gar, are you fucking with me?” He took of his coat, put it back on his chair, set the papers down gently, and sat down heavily. Whatever “Gar” was saying was surely taking a few years off of Graysons lifespan.

“No, we’re not gonna get evicted... probably. Just, put Kory on the phone, I trust her to tell me the truth more than you or Rachel. And I do mean that in a bad way,” Grayson added, pinching the bridge of his nose, most likely hoping to stave off the progressing migraine.

It was silent for a few more seconds while Grayson listens to the now female voice, then he smiles softly. It was fond, Smith thought, fonder than anything she’s ever seen out of the kid. “Okay, but can you guys please stop blowing things up while I’m not around? None of you knows where the fire extinguisher is and are bound to get hurt one way or another.” He sighs with fake annoyance, “What am I gonna do with you all?” Smith is taken back by the “blowing things up” comment, but doesn’t express it outwardly.

A cheesy grin takes from on his face as the person on the phone attempts to displace the blame. This goes on for another thirty seconds or so, while Grayson supplies sarcastic “Mhmm...”’s or “Oh really?”’s here and there. Eventually, the other (Kory, Smith assumes) starts to place the blame on Grayson, according to his excuses, “What do you mean ‘this is my fault’?! I’m not even there!” he laughs, disbelieving. The voice rises to indignant volumes, but he attempts to alleviate the situation. 

“Kory, Kory, honey, it’s not a big deal. We can pay for the microwave. Just… next time, don’t leave the plastic wrapper on the popcorn bag. I would tell you what happens, but it seems like you’ve experienced that for yourself,” he chuckles and leans back in his chair, more relaxed than Smith as ever seen him.

He puts the phone in between his shoulder and jaw, freeing his hands to pick up one of the reports as Kory was talking (or not talking, Smith can’t really hear anything anymore). After a minute, he said, eyes brightening up, “Hey, can you put Rachel on? I want to talk to her about something.” Pause. “Hey, Rach, could you draw something for me?... No, it’s not for me, it’s for a coworker. We have a Secret Santa near the holidays every year and I was wondering…” 

Grayson laughs loud and rolls his eyes, “Fuck you, Roth, I give amazing presents! Everyone… usually enjoys what I get them for Christmas.” He runs a hand through his hair, “Of course, I’ll pay you. It’ll just a picture of her and her cats. Trust me, she’ll love them.” 

He drops the reports, clearly distracted at the moment, and tugs on his bottom lip (nervous habit?), “Rachel, it’ll be great. Honestly, you need to give yourself more credit. Okay. We’ll figure out the details more tonight. I’ll see you all at around six, alright? Please get rid of the microwave before I get home, I don’t enjoy the smell of… exploded popcorn.”

He goes to hang up the phone, but suddenly brings it up to his ear again, “Rachel, wait! Before I forget, Tell Gar to stop leaving his shit everywhere. I’m tired of tripping over that stupid skateboard every goddamn morning. Yeah, I did it this morning, too. Almost fucking died,” he replied, quiet compared to the contrast of the loud and booming laugh coming from his phone, heard from two desks away. “Okay, yeah, laugh it up Gar, but I’m telling you, I am not a morning person, so if one day you find it broken in two, don’t be surprised.” His gentle smile contradicts the threat. 

They stay on talking for another minute or so about dinner plans, the drawing Grayson commissioned Rachel to do, and about how Kory thinks skateboarding is such a ridiculous way to travel. (“Wait until you hear about roller skating, Kory, it’s even more amazingly ridiculous.”)

He eventually hangs up with an earnest and warm smile, and it stays there until the end of the day, never failing to alarm some of the people who talk to him that day.

Detective Smith apparently has a lot more to learn about Dick Grayson than she initially thought. This conversation shocked her to her core.

She glides over to him with a burst of adrenaline the next day, and asks, “This is going to sound weird, and there’s really no excusable explanation for why I know this, but… are you my Secret Santa?”

**Author's Note:**

> \- hello! this is the first fic i've posted in literal YEARS so be gentle please lmao (the first fic i've ever written was a teen titans one. the fucking cartoon. and the show that's getting me back into writing? titans, a show based off of teen titans, the cartoon. extraordinary.)  
> \- i know it isn't the best (sorry for any grammar mistakes), but it got me back into writing again, which is something i've wanted to do since forever. i thank this show for doing that!  
> \- i adore any feedback whether constructive or ya just wanna talk. i'll always b here.  
> \- send me prompts on tumblr or just talk to me: @/ofthecloudspng ! its pretty empty but i check it everyone in a while!  
> \- p.s. this fic was inspired by the incredible @RosaLiu ! https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547060  
> \- p.p.s. happy holidays!!!!! love u


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